Faith in Fireflies and Fables
by RavenEcho
Summary: A collection of drabbles/one-shots centered around the new generation, and the ties/relationships between it and the generation of the novels. Not necessarily in chronological order, or all compliant with each other. Rating for future chapters & language.
1. Percy names Molly

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own it… sadly.

Author's Note: This is the beginning of a collection of drabbles/one-shots about the new generation and relationships between it and the generation of the novels. There will be a variety of styles, pairings, and times… I hope you enjoy! If you do, or don't, please let me know why in a review! Don't ever underestimate the power of a couple of words…

Percy Weasley had no doubt when he chose to name his first child—a daughter—Molly. He briefly consulted his wife, Audrey, about the decision, but she could tell from the way his jaw was set that he had already quite made up his mind about the matter. There was no arguing with Percy once his mind was made up… even if he was cordial enough to act as though you had a say in it.

You see, the young wizard never quite stopped feeling guilty for abandoning and disowning his family a few years back when Voldemort rose again. They had forgiven him in very little time [far less time than he had deserved to be forced to squirm]—and although he had his private trepidations, Percy knew that once the Weasley family—and Hermione and Harry for that matter—expressed an emotion, they genuinely meant it.

His mother was the one of the first to wordlessly welcome him with open arms and tear tracks on her dusty face, right after the final battle.

His father was a little bit slower to embrace him, but he soon did. "There is too much pain present here in this family caused by the loss of one dear one," he murmured to his long estranged son. "How can we possibly allow more pain to enter in when we're getting another dear one back again?"

Percy knew he didn't deserve the ready forgiveness his family—and parents especially—so willingly gave him. That's what made the decision of his child's name so easy.

The wizard knew that there was nothing his mother wanted more than grandchildren. Any grandchild at all would be thanks enough, perhaps—but when Percy saw his baby's tiny wisps of red curls and the barest spattering of freckles across her cheeks, he was instantly swept up in gratitude for the mother that was so wonderful to him. And that's when he knew.

"Audrey, dear," he said, not even looking at his wife, instead entranced by his daughter's beautiful pale brown eyes, "her name is Molly, if it's quite alright by you."

And what could Audrey do but smile with pride and accept? "Molly it is, my dear."


	2. Draco & Astoria name Scorpius

Draco didn't put much thought into it when he named his child. He didn't give a damn really, and neither did Astoria—they were just happy beyond belief that it was a boy for god's sake. Malfoys weren't exactly known for being fertile stock—they were no goddamn Weasleys with children pouring out of their ears. No, they had class.

But no, Draco smiled when he found out that he had a son with his white blond hair and silvery gray eyes, and just chose the first two constellations he could think of for his name in less than a minute's time—it's what all the rest of his family had done, at least on his mother's side anyway. Wasn't it simpler that way?

He never quite considered the fact that he was tossing a hell of a mouthful of a name on his poor son, just like he never quite considered any of his actions towards the boy.

Scorpius was a necessity, required to continue the noble [but not so noble any more, really] Malfoy line—they never really wanted him, exactly. And so Astoria smiled as she told the Mediwitch her son's name and passed him to the nurse that he would spend most of his childhood with. And Draco managed to look pleased but professional as he shared the good news. And on they went with their lives.


	3. Harry, Ginny, & 3 names

Harry and Ginny pretended to think long and hard about the names for their children, but they knew all along, really. It wasn't that it was something they took lightly—no, never—a name was extremely important for a child, they both thought. A name shaped a child, until they were strong enough to shape themselves. No, it was much more that they already knew exactly who they wanted—needed—to honor with their children's names.

Each decision that they made was special… it was a memory, a tribute, a blessing.

James Sirius was Harry's favorite name—although he never would say such, to Ginny or anyone. Ginny didn't mind it. Harry was one of the fairest people she knew; he wouldn't treat a child differently just because the people he was named after were so special to him. But it was clear in Harry's mind that James and Sirius had to be the first two to be recognized, and Ginny was willing to indulge her husband in his memories. When they saw their son growing up, with that unruly black hair and glinting brown eyes and an unending desire to fly and cause a ruckus, they smiled slyly at each other and knew they had chosen the best name possible.

Ginny and Harry both knew that Albus Severus would be their next son's name. This one was a much more difficult experience to get through for the young couple. Whereas they had been all smiles when they christened their first child, this time around it was a much more serious occasion. The names Albus and Severus instantly brought tightness into Harry's throat, as memories of war and heroes rushed into his mind. Ginny squeezed her husband's hand with a tearful smile as they watched their second son grow into a serious and smart young man, with deep green eyes that reminded them of the firm severity of the their old potions professor and a slow smile that looked like Albus Dumbledore come alive all over again.

Lily Luna was their last child [and name] and Ginny had no shame in admitting that it was her favorite name yet. Of course the other two names had been a joint decision, but they were really chosen for Harry's sake… Ginny had full say in her only daughter's name, and it wasn't at all a hard selection. When she saw her baby girl's emerald green eyes and deeply auburn hair—quite unlike her own brighter Weasley red—she imagined that it was Lily's genes again, coming back to her son and his young wife. And Luna—her other two children were named after fallen heroes, but Ginny couldn't resist this small tribute to the girl who had grown to be one of her best friends, even though they had grown apart a bit after graduating and marrying. Luna had survived the war, but that didn't make her any less the hero after all she had suffered. And as Ginny watched her little Lily Luna grow, she was quite proud of the woman she was becoming—she had all the intelligence of her paternal grandmother, along with the rapid wit and the perfect twist of a whimsical nature that always reminded Ginny of Looney Luna.

Harry and Ginny smiled as they watched all their children grow, because although they had named them well, they were truly content in the knowledge that a name wouldn't really ever matter in the grand scheme of things.


	4. George & Angelina: Fred

For George Weasley—and the rest of his family, in fact—Fred was always the clearly perfect name for his son. He had decided such a few months after his twin's funeral—when he finally got his head just a little bit screwed on again and could think beyond where his next shot of firewhiskey would be coming from.

For his young wife, Angelina, however, this was the "worst choice he had ever made."

Knowing Georgey-boy as the Weasleys did, they never doubted that he was happy [or as happy as half a person could be] in his marriage with Angelina. Molly liked to sit back and daydream about a George who could grin freely again, a house full of laughter, a rosy bride who could replace [if not quite completely] the brother that George could never forget.

Nobody would've expected or suspected the bitterly biting remarks, the strained smiles, and the hands tensely clenched together with tears dripped on.

And as a master man of masks, George never breathed a word about the vicious debate that his son's name became. It all started on a February afternoon, when a few-months-along Angelina breathed the magic words, "It's a boy," over a mug of hot cocoa when George walked in shaking the snow off his hair.

George didn't even shrug off his damp cloak, instead wrapping Angelina into a tight hug and smiling more authentically than he had since the dark day that ended the war. "His name is Fred!" he declared. In his excitement, he didn't see the way Angelina's dark eyes flashed and her pale lips tightened. But even a boulder could've felt the way her whole body tensed and the embrace was ended.

"No," she said firmly.

The young wizard flinched as if he'd been struck but Angelina hardly saw it before his shoulders squared for battle. She didn't give him the chance. "Isn't there enough of Fred looming in this house already?" she hissed, tears springing into her eyes as she turned away from her husband.

George closed his eyes, unable to reply as he bent his head to a wave of memories… _Fred asking Angelina to the Yule Ball… George double-dating with Fred and Angelina, Katie Bell's hand in his… gossiping like a girl with his bolder twin about the witches they were so scared to be falling in love with while on a warfront…_

He shoved the memories aside, focusing instead on the slideshow of pranks they'd engineered together and the bravery his brother had never failed to show. Fred was a strong name, the name of a hero, the name their son would surely deserve to carry.

"His name," George said in a voice that no longer allowed room for protest, "is Fred." And he left the room. Angelina let him go—her battle was lost.

And the years passed, and Angelina watched with a sad smile as the boy turned into the spitting image of the wizard she'd fallen in love with… but only in physical appearances. He was a quiet, shy child that always looked back at his parents before biting his lip and plunging ahead in his uncle's path as though he had never doubted when his mother looked one way and his father the other. He lusted after dragons and fairytales instead of broomsticks and pranks… he found his safe place curled up in the library instead of on the Quidditch pitch. And although no one would ever speak the foul word "disappointment," everyone [and best of all the boy himself] knew exactly what that look in George Weasley's eyes meant.


End file.
